


He Was Free

by Flvctvat_Nec_Mergitvr



Series: Chasing Cars [1]
Category: House M.D.
Genre: Angst, Depression, I'm Sorry, Jealousy, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-27
Updated: 2016-03-27
Packaged: 2018-05-29 11:58:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 983
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6373840
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Flvctvat_Nec_Mergitvr/pseuds/Flvctvat_Nec_Mergitvr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Where did I go wrong?" He thought to himself as he stared up at the blinding bathroom lights, blinking back unshed tears.</p>
            </blockquote>





	He Was Free

**Author's Note:**

> Hi hi! This is my first time posting on AO3- but I've been writing fanfiction under the same alias on dA if you'd like to check me out. This is my first House MD fic -written in under half an hour and un-beta'd- which I'm currently obsessing over and just want to write and RP about constantly, ugh!

The apartment was dark. No light permeated through the thick curtains that had been drawn for what seemed like an eternity, and, even if they were open, it was too late for sun to shine in and the moon was encompased in thick, dark clouds. 

He was truly alone, inside the small en suite of his bedroom. Harsh, clinical light that reminded him too much of an Operating Theatre shone throught the cracked door slightly, and one could just make out an unmade bed, untouched for weeks.

He was thin, emaciated. He hadn't eaten properly since this entire mess had started, living on a diet of black coffee and maybe a pathetic, limp salad if he had a moment to himself between the paper work he was forced to spend hours after shift finishing for his boss; the six years worth of clinic hours he'd been forced to take it upon himself to complete; and the volunteering he did in the ER to avoid going home alone, hoping to soak up as many compassionate nurse smiles as possible in the hopes that they'd make him feel somewhat human. 

They didn't.

Robert Chase truly was a shadow of him former self.

Limp, greasy hair -well overdue for a haircut- just brushed the shirt he'd been wearing since his last shift, three days before hand. It stank of coffee, and was stained with the offending liquid. His arms, wrapped around himself in a way of comfort, were burned.

A ratty, thin blanket and a pillow were inside the bathtub, waiting for him. At twenty seven years of age, Chase didn't like to admit that he sometimes regressed into old habits and returned to his safe haven, especially on nights like tonight, where the wind howled like screaming parents of children he couldn't save, and thunder cracked like House's yells when he was a minute late delivering coffee because he was so tired he'd stopped for a moment to lean against a wall and rest.

God, he was tired.

He was so, _so_ tired.

He'd poured over his paperwork, he'd begged Cuddy, but no one could help him. He was stuck working under a man who hated him until the end of his contract. A job he'd fought so hard to keep, had been willing to throw his boss under the bus to keep it, was now his living hell, as proven by the bottle of antidepressants in his medicine cabinet- and the empty vodka bottles in the corner.

Chase reminisced that when he was younger, he'd used to sleep in the bathroom to evade his mother's fists when she'd inevitably burst into his room at two o' clock in the morning to hit him, because it was 'his fault' his father had left. Because he'd wanted to take Chase with him. He glanced over at the empty bottles- now, he was no better than she had been.

Now, it was House's cruel payback, Cameron's pitying glances, Foreman's indifference, Wilson's apathetic looks and Cuddy's predictable sigh and headshake that he wanted to block out.

He winced at the memory of his last shift, three days before hand.

_"You're late."_

_"I'm tired, I had to stop for a minute. I..Please, House, just let me go." He'd tried, while standing in front of the crippled man with his coffee. "You hate me. You're punishing me, forgive me or fire me. Please, I can't take this."_

_A moment later, he screamed as the piping hot coffee was hit with a well aimed cane and poured down his front, burning. Tears welled, and he wanted, -no, needed!- medical assistance, a clean shirt, anything... But House had made him work his shift, and stay late, even threatened to fire the others if they helped him at all._

_He'd ran home, that night, and caught sight of himself in his bathroom mirror. The scream that resounded from his throat sounded almost like his mother's, and a moment later there was a fire in his hands, blood pouring down his wrists, and shards of mirror all over the floor._

_And he was still alone, not even his reflection for company._

Chase reminisced.

He remembered a time of lopsided smiles and sparkling blue eyes, like the sky. He remembered calloused, warm hands with slender pianist fingers. He remembered nights of comfortable couches, and chinese, and laughing. _God_ , he remembered laughing. He missed laughing, smiling. 

He missed House. The man didn't trust easy and Chase knew his betrayal was unforgivable, that he'd never be able to hold the man in his arms again. It hurt. 

What made it worse was seeing the older man, now, kissing, holding, touching Wilson. The one person Chase would never be able to compete with. Wilson would always be priority to House, no matter what. Chase closed his eyes tighly, unable to stop picturing the couple in his head, when it should have been him, not the philandering oncologist.

In a fit of impulse, he pulled out the bottle that he'd stolen from House's desk, knowing it would go unnoticed for several days, long enough for Chase. He shakily unscrewed the bottle and upturned it into his palm, dirty with the dried blood he hadn't bothered to wash off. _This was it_. He breathed. He could never be forgiven, but he could be free. His over tired hands shook but he pressed himself on. Just a moment, just another moment. 

_Any last words?_ "I love you, House." He tossed the Vicoden back and leaned against the toilet, allowing his tired body to finally rest. He wasn't scared, he knew this would be better. He'd be with the God he'd given up on so long ago, free of pain and love and heartbreak.

Chase felt his heart slow down and his eyes drifted shut, body sliding onto the floor limply.

And, in his last moment, he smiled.

He was free.

**Author's Note:**

> Please let me know your thoughts, you've read this so we're friends, now!  
> ((Check out my bio for links to my other sites, I'm always open to RP buddies and new friends!))


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